Shenanigans
by simplyshelbs16
Summary: John and Mycroft decide it's time to interfere in the affairs of Sherlock and Molly. Post-TFP. I do not own the characters; Sir ACD and Moftiss/BBC do.
1. Prologue

**I have no idea where this is going except for the obvious endgame lol but I thought I'd do a comical take on the missing post-TFP scenes.**

* * *

"You said what!?" John and Mycroft shouted in unison.

"What was I supposed to do?" Sherlock defended. "I can't have her be in any more danger than she already was."

"Sherlock, don't you think that's her decision to make?" John asked.

"I know what her choice would've been, so therefore I had to make sure she believed in the lie," Sherlock explained.

"Brother mine, I can't believe I'm saying this, but you need to tell her the truth," Mycroft sighed.

"I can't," Sherlock began, his voice breaking. "I can't lose her." While they understood where he was coming from, they knew it was a mistake for him not to tell Molly that he meant the 'I love you.'

"You had your chance, Sherlock," Mycroft told him. "Now, we must focus on mummy and father."

"Quite right," Sherlock agreed a little too enthusiastically. He was desperately trying to avoid the topic of his potential love life.

Not long after the Holmes brothers left John's house, did the good doctor receive a text from Mycroft.

 **You do realize we must interfere in my brother's affairs or lack thereof?**

John knew that it was exactly what they had to do.


	2. Plan A - Babysitting

Another week had passed when Sherlock began taking cases again. His parents were still staying with Mycroft while dealing with Eurus's situation. They hadn't gone to see her yet but the time was approaching. John noticed that his best friend had been avoiding Molly like the plague even going as far to not work on their current case until it was one of her off days. Boy, was Sherlock surprised when Molly was in the morgue.

"M-Molly, what are you doing here? Aren't you off today?" Sherlock asked, desperately trying to figure out what to do with his hands.

"Switched shifts for a colleague," she replied nonchalantly as she examined the murder victim on the slab. Molly paid no attention to Sherlock; not one bit. The tension was thick enough that John could cut it with a knife. He felt that maybe he should give them some space but when he tried to slip away, Sherlock caught his arm. His eyes pleaded for him to stay, so with an inward groan, John did what his best friend silently requested.

"May I?" Sherlock asked, gesturing towards the body.

"Sure, whatever," Molly shrugged, still adamant about not looking at him. John watched with secondhand embarrassment as the two moved around each other awkwardly. He still felt he shouldn't be there but kept himself rooted to the spot he stood in. Their fingers brushed suddenly, and though hers were gloved, Molly jumped back a bit when their eyes finally locked. The tension in the room shifted from angst-filled to a wistful sadness mixed in with a touch of romanticism. They looked at each other with such longing and then the moment passed when Sherlock finally turned away.

 **Mycroft, it's time to implement plan A. –JW**

 **Excellent. Prepare Rosamund.**

* * *

"Thanks again, Molly, I really appreciate it," John told her.

"Oh, it's no trouble, John. I enjoy spending time with Rosie. You go out and have fun. You need it after everything that's happened," Molly smiled.

"Alright, I'm here, where's Rosamu—" Sherlock faltered when he saw Molly holding their goddaughter.

"Oh, look at the time, must go," John spoke quickly before closing and locking the front door behind him. Not that it could stop Sherlock from walking right out, but he knew that he would stay.

"I'll just," Sherlock said, motioning to the door.

"No," Molly spoke up. "I'm gonna use this to my advantage. You're going to help out whether you want to or not."

"But you never have trouble babysitting alone," Sherlock argued.

"The point of this is not to help me, but to help you become a competent godfather," Molly told him icily. Sherlock winced as she sounded a bit like himself when he insulted others for being stupid.

"Well, if you're only going to insult me, I should leave," Sherlock huffed. There was a deeper sadness in his eyes and it didn't go undetected by the pathologist.

"Sherlock, hey," Molly began in a softer tone, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder, "look I'm sorry for snapping at you. I'm sure you're a good godfather to Rosie. I crossed a line. I know you care for her deeply." He met her eyes solemnly.

"You have no idea," he replied. Unbeknownst to Molly, there was a double meaning behind his words. Obviously he deeply cared for his goddaughter, but he also felt the same about the woman holding her. His Molly. Except that she wasn't his; not truly. "Rosamund needs changing." It was the only thing he could say.

"Well, you're learning how to change a nappy tonight," Molly informed him with a smirk. She decided to attempt to be on her best behaviour with Sherlock but only for Rosie. Their goddaughter didn't need that kind of negative tension around her. It didn't change the fact that Molly was still broken inside; broken but strong. She was resilient.

Molly guided him as he changed Rosie's nappy. He was surprisingly a natural at it. She allowed a soft giggle to escape her lips.

"What?" Sherlock asked with confusion.

"It's just you changing her," she laughed.

"Molly, I hardly think any of this is a laughing matter. Besides, I did it right, see?" he gestured towards Rosie.

"No, I know you did it right," Molly replied. "It's just that men usually don't get it right the first time around and here you are, ever the expert."

"Don't be surprised," he remarked with his trademark arrogance. She rolled her eyes in annoyance. As she watched Sherlock lift Rosie into his arms, a warmth spread through her at the beautiful, genuine smile he gave their goddaughter. Rosie giggled as she grabbed onto his nose, causing him to make a face of playful annoyance at her. He attempted to hand her back to Molly but the little Watson was not having it. She fisted her tiny hands in his curls tightly.

"Oh, no, Rosie here, let go of Uncle Sherlock's hair," Molly said, biting back a smile.

"Just as stubborn as your mother," Sherlock chuckled. Molly successfully got Rosie to release his hair and took her in her arms. "Molly, I—"

"Don't," she warned. "Just don't." His heart ached, and though he was trying to keep her safe by keeping her at arm's length, Sherlock felt his harsh words were the biggest mistake he had ever made.

* * *

John sat with Mycroft in his office watching the somewhat successful plan unfold. He had given permission to Mycroft to bug his house only this once and they were both sighing with annoyance.

"If only Miss Hooper would make things a bit easier," Mycroft complained, a hand running down his face.

"To be fair, what Sherlock said was not the way he should have told her," John defended Molly. "I mean, how would you feel if you were on the receiving end of that phone call and afterward, that person told you that even if they meant those words, they'd still never pursue a relationship with you?"

"Why would I care?" Mycroft asked.

"Nevermind, forget I asked. I almost forgot who I was talking to," John huffed. A moment of silence passed before he spoke up again. "It'd be different if he told her why he wouldn't pursue it, but no, he had to go and cock it up." Mycroft only sighed once more.

* * *

When John arrived home, Sherlock and Molly were passed out on opposite ends of the sofa with Rosie asleep on the consulting detective's chest. John had to admit that Sherlock was more cut out for domestic life than he had previously thought. If Rosie had dark curls instead of the blonde, it would make them look like a married couple with their baby. He took his phone out and snapped a photo before waking them up.

"Long night?" John asked.

"Oh, John, get your offspring off of me," Sherlock yawned.

"Hmm?" Molly mumbled, her eyes fluttering open. "Oh, hey. Must've dozed off. Sorry."

"Ah, it's fine. Wasn't too much trouble for you?" John questioned.

"No, she was an angel," Molly replied.

"I meant the consulting annoyance over there," John smirked. Sherlock half-opened his mouth in offense.

"Oh, he was…fine I guess," Molly stated, her face completely devoid of emotion. Well, she did learn from the best on repressing them. "I best be going. Hope you had fun tonight." And with that, she was gone, not even sparing Sherlock a glance.

"I'm an arse," Sherlock sighed.

"Yes, you are," John agreed with a disappointed shake of his head.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Goodness, things are still icy but a bit melted. I wonder what Mycroft has planned...


	3. Plan B - Undercover

**Mycroft assigns Sherlock to a case in which Molly is needed. Thanks for all the reviews you lovely people!**

* * *

"Hello brother mine," Mycroft announced himself as he entered the lab of Bart's Hospital. Sherlock was stationed at his usual spot studying whatever was beneath the microscope. Molly was very obviously trying to avoid both of them. "Miss Hooper." The eldest Holmes cast a double glance when he noticed her roll her eyes at him. _Well, that's not fair, I didn't do a damn thing…yet_ , he thought.

"What is it, Mycroft?" Sherlock sighed, not bothering to look up.

"I have a case for you," he replied.

"Not interested," Sherlock waved him off.

"Oh, but you very well might be. You see, there's a man much lower in the government than myself who's been suspected of embezzlement," Mycroft explained.

"Suspected by who?" Sherlock inquired.

"By me," Mycroft confirmed. "He'll be at the Cresswell's charity ball tonight."

"Fine, I'll go," Sherlock groaned. "Hasn't been anything above a three lately, anyways."

"There's a catch," Mycroft informed him.

"Isn't there always?" Sherlock asked rhetorically.

"You'll need to bring a date; no admittance without one," he smiled mischievously at Molly.

"Oh hell no," she glared.

"Please, Miss Hooper? It would be helping me out quite a bit," Mycroft insisted.

"What about Anthea?" Sherlock questioned. He didn't want Molly to feel forced into this.

"Anthea has a surveillance job to do for me tonight," he answered. It wasn't a complete lie. She was doing surveillance but on the impending couple officially named 'Sherlolly' on the manila envelope.

"Fine, I'll do it but only because you've never been an arse to me," Molly told Mycroft. "But you're going to owe me."

"Understood, Miss Hooper, thank you," Mycroft replied.

"Molly, you don't have to do anything you don't want to do. Your job title is not to serve us selfish, narcissistic Holmes brothers," Sherlock said. This statement took her by surprise at the sincerity of it.

"I don't mind," she told him. "Besides, it'll give me a chance to wear the dress that's been in the back of my closet for years now."

"Well, with that settled, I must be going," Mycroft announced. "I'll text you the details." Secretly, they were both a bit excited at the prospect of having a night of dancing together.

* * *

Sherlock arrived at Molly's flat in a car that his brother provided. She opened at the first knock, stepping out and locking the door behind her, effectively not allowing him inside. That icy chill she gave off still froze him down to his bones.

"Molly, you look—" _gorgeous, beautiful—"_ exquisite," Sherlock breathed out. She wore a black one shoulder dress with a side slit up her left leg that stopped modestly just above her knee. Her hair was twisted up in a chignon bun with a couple of short tendrils of her chestnut locks shaping her face.

"Thank you," she replied with a small smile. "You don't look so bad yourself." It was better than he hoped to receive from her. He wore a sleek tuxedo and had his hair slicked back, taming the wild mass of curls that usually adorned his head.

The car ride was silent for the most part except for when Sherlock told her the details from Mycroft's texts. The man they were on the lookout for was named Oliver Williams. A picture was sent so they could identify him in the crowd.

* * *

When they arrived, Sherlock extended his hand to her as she exited the car. They entered arm in arm into the grand ballroom.

"Alright, so if you happen to see him, just signal me with your eyes," Sherlock told her. "You're an expert at glaring at me by now." Molly's mouth hardened into a firm line, far from being amused by his remark. Her eyes were daggers now. "Exactly, just like that. If looks could kill," he chuckled weakly, taking her in his arms to dance.

"Sherlock, I will step on your feet with these heels on purpose if you don't behave," Molly scolded him. Her scowl quickly turned into a small smile and then a laugh as they danced. "Look at us. We're behaving like children."

"To be fair, I understand completely. I don't deserve your kindness," Sherlock told her. "I was an arse that night; everything came out wrong. It was not my intention to hurt you."

"The funny thing is," Molly began, "I know you didn't mean to hurt me but it still, well, it pisses me off." Sherlock noticed her hold in whatever tears that seemed to be forming. "What happened to us?"

"Everything," was all he responded with as he spun her around and brought her back in. The next two dances were filled with silence as they kept a lookout for Oliver. Molly rested her head against his chest, right over his heart. His heartbeat was a comfort to her. She closed her eyes for a moment to savor it. When she opened them again, she spotted their target. Molly straightened up and spoke to him with her eyes, shifting them to the left. He lifted his chin in understanding and swept her along the floor with him, all the while getting closer to Oliver.

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry," Molly exclaimed when Sherlock purposefully bumped her into him, effectively spilling his drink.

"It's not a problem, Miss—" he faltered.

"Hooper. Molly Hooper," she smiled sweetly. Sherlock had to give it to her, she knew how to work her femininity well.

"The blame should be on me," Sherlock spoke up. "Allow me to get you another drink, sir." He left to text Mycroft that the plan had been implemented. Molly had a recording device tucked into the shoulder of her dress. He kept a close eye on them.

* * *

"Sir, they are getting along quite well, despite the bit of banter in the beginning," Anthea informed Mycroft from the balcony overlooking the dance floor.

"That is delightful news, thank you, Anthea," Mycroft told her. "My plan is sure to do better than Doctor Watson's."

"Of course, sir," she smirked.

Twenty minutes later, Mycroft received the text from Sherlock he was waiting for. He tapped into Molly's listening device. The more she flirted, the more Oliver spilled on his job. The man was incredibly stupid to tell on himself to a woman he had just met. He listened to the moment that she nabbed him.

"So, that means you must have a quite a bit of money," Molly remarked.

"Well, with my low level job, not usually," he replied. "But with my recent escapade, I could buy you all of the jewels you could ever want."

"Escapades?" she questioned with curiosity.

"Embezzlement. Well, you seem to not be deterred from criminal activity, Miss Hooper," Oliver continued. "If I recall, you did date my former boss."

"Your former boss?" Molly asked with worry.

"Don't tell me you forgot Jim Moriarty so quickly," he scolded, tightening his grip on her wrist. Mycroft's eyes widened as he heard the confession. He sent a text to Sherlock.

 **Oliver was one of Moriarty's men. Get to her now.**

* * *

Molly twisted herself every which way before settling on sending her knee between his legs, followed by her heel. She stumbled backward, thankfully caught in Sherlock's arms. He helped her upright before knocking the man to the ground and slapping his handcuffs on Oliver's wrists.

"Sherlock Holmes I presume," he breathed heavily from the pain. "Your girlfriend is quite capable of taking care of herself, I must say."

"She's not my girlfriend," he growled. "Tell that to your fellow prisoners." Sherlock tried to lead him away from the knowledge that she meant a great deal to him but he knew it was too late. The police arrived per Mycroft's request and Oliver was taken in. Sherlock and Molly left soon after.

* * *

Sherlock walked her to her door, wary of any lurking dangers.

"I am so sorry, Molly. If I had known he was once involved with Moriarty, I never would have had you come," Sherlock told her. "Your life was endangered again because of me."

"It's not your fault, Sherlock. Please don't blame yourself. I mean, I was the stupid one. I put myself in danger by dating him in the first place," Molly explained. "If I'm in danger, it's because of him, not you. Besides, I had a lovely time tonight."

"As did I," Sherlock replied. "You know, with catching the criminal and all."

"Of course," she nodded. "Best part." Sherlock knew she was lying; hell, he knew that she detected his lie. He didn't understand the point of all the hiding and lies anymore. She was right; she would always be in danger because of her association with Moriarty, so what would it matter if he told her the truth now? It would have to wait another time because she struck him speechless as she reached up to kiss his cheek tenderly.

"Goodnight, Sherlock," she smiled before locking herself in her flat. He brought his hand up to his cheek, caressing the lingering kiss with his fingers. Molly had her back to the door once inside her flat. Her chest heaved as her heart beat rapidly. They both realized how much harder they had fallen for one another that night.


	4. Apologies

**Sherlolly feels, John and Sherlock friendship feels and a dash of Holmes brother feels.**

* * *

"Well, your plan sounds like it was more successful than mine," John told Mycroft. It had been two weeks since the charity ball. John sat in his chair with Rosie in the sitting room of the newly renovated 221B. Mycroft stood by the fireplace as per usual. They were waiting on Sherlock to return from NSY.

"We just need one more plan," Mycroft stated. "Something to seal their inevitable fate."

"You mean us. We are the fate putting them together, Mycroft," John chuckled. "How about a trip down memory lane?" The elder Holmes stared at him in mortification.

"Yes, because I heard that Christmas party went so well or the time my brother attempted to woo Miss Hooper but she was already engaged to a knockoff of him," Mycroft scoffed. "Yes, that surely says romance."

"How would you know?" Sherlock asked from the doorway.

"How much of that did you hear?" John asked.

"Enough to know it's you two who are not-so-secretly trying to play matchmaker," Sherlock stated.

"Just get your bloody head out of your arse and tell her the truth, Sherlock," John told him. "Do you not think this is a decision for Molly to make on whether you're worth the danger or not?"

"I'm not worth it, John, that IS the problem," Sherlock snapped. Mycroft blinked his eyes in shock at the amount of emotion in his brother's voice. He knew Sherlock was the most emotional out of the three Holmes children but it was something he had to get used to all over again.

"Brother mine, do consider telling her," Mycroft spoke up. "If not, I will have to take matters into my own hands."

"There is nothing you can do to fix any of this, Mycroft. This isn't a job for the British government," Sherlock jabbed. He walked out the door again and John passed Rosie to Mycroft much to his horror before he stopped at the top of the stairs.

"Where are you going, Sherlock? I swear, if I find you in another bloody drug den, I will be calling Molly," John shouted. His protests were ignored. "It's not a danger night, right?" He turned to Mycroft.

"I don't think we'll have to worry, though I'll have Anthea keep an eye on him," Mycroft replied. They were both worried for Sherlock's emotional and mental state. "Please take your offspring from me."

* * *

Molly was making tea in the kitchen when she heard a knock.

"May I come in?" Sherlock asked as she opened the door. She shifted anxiously, unsure if she should. "Molly, please." There it was again; that desperation in his voice, similar to that of the phone call.

"Alright," she decided, stepping aside to let him in. "Make it quick."

"I am sorry, Molly. Forgive me. Please," Sherlock pleaded. "I don't want to be the reason you cry; I want to be the reason you smile."

"Sherlock—"

"I miss my best friend," he spoke solemnly. Molly let out a small gasp. She was speechless. Instead, she wrapped him up in a hug and stroked his curls softly. A tear escaped one of his sea green eyes and hit her shoulder.

"I forgive you," she whispered in his ear, unable to stop her own tears. "Shhh, it's okay, Sherlock, I'm here." He held onto her tighter. "I'm here. Always."

* * *

When Sherlock returned, John remained seated with Rosie who was just waking up.

"Well, you don't look like you've relapsed," John remarked.

"I went to Molly's," Sherlock admitted. "She's forgiven me. It's the best I can hope for. We're friends again at least."

"You didn't tell her you loved her?" John asked.

"No, I can't be selfish like that," Sherlock sighed. "She deserves better."

"Sherlock, just admit you're scared," John told him. He watched as his best friend sat down in the chair opposite him. "Look, I know I've been a rubbish friend to you. I cut you off and nearly beat you to a bloody pulp during the Culverton case. I never said how sorry I was for that. I'm sorry; you didn't deserve that. It doesn't excuse my actions, but it's a start, I hope."

"Apology accepted," Sherlock replied.

"So, as I'm trying to be a better friend to you, Sherlock, I am telling you right now that if Molly Hooper believes you deserve her, then you deserve her," John firmly stated. "I believe you deserve her, and surprisingly enough, your brother does too. Mary always thought you two were in love since the moment she met Molly."

"Thank you, John," Sherlock slightly smiled. "And what about you Rosamund? What say you?" His goddaughter's face brightened as she squealed with delight and clapped her hands. "Well, that does it. I am pursuing Molly Hooper."

"Mycroft may have already planned something," John informed him. "Might wanna wait to see what it is first." Sherlock laughed in disbelief at the idea of his brother going through all of this trouble for him.

"Perhaps, I may have been too harsh with Mycroft. He really does care," Sherlock mused. "It's time to stop keeping everyone at arm's length." This epiphany is what would offset a closer relationship between the Holmes brothers.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I touched on some things that needed to be touched on. I cried a lot when I wrote this chapter.


	5. Plan C - Holmes Family Dinner

**Mycroft invites Molly over for a family dinner.**

* * *

"Well, this is just lovely," Mrs. Holmes exclaimed. "A nice family dinner is just what we need, isn't it dear?"

"Couldn't agree more, but where is Sherlock?" Mr. Holmes asked.

"He should be here soon, I assure you," Mycroft told them.

"Mikey, why've you done this? You complained about us gathering for Christmas and now you go and have a change of heart?" Mrs. Holmes questioned suspiciously. The doorbell from the eldest Holmes' front door rang.

"I have a very delicate matter to handle," Mycroft explained before rushing off to answer the door.

"Mycroft, your mother is worried and would like to know what on earth is going on here?" Mr. Holmes inquired. "This is quite unlike you and—oh, hello."

"Hi," Molly shyly smiled. The smile on Mrs. Holmes' face was bright enough to light the whole room.

"You must be Molly; the one who helped Sherlock those years ago, correct?" she deduced. Molly only nodded. "Oh, well, it's nice to finally meet you dear. Sit, don't be shy."

"Thank you," Molly said, a bit anxious as to why Mycroft invited her over for a family function.

"Sherlock's running a bit late, unsurprisingly, but we'll make due," Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Mycroft, I appreciate the invite, but why am I here?" Molly asked. "Not that it's not lovely to finally meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Holmes, but I just don't understand."

"Miss Hooper—"

"Oh God, is this an intervention?" she questioned. Mycroft felt that his head was going to burst until a familiar baritone voice boomed down the hallway.

"No, it's not an intervention," Sherlock smiled. "Mycroft, I surely did not expect you to pull this off. And bringing mummy and father into this, wonderful!" His faux excitement was a cover up for the true excitement he hid underneath.

"Well, at least we can have dinner now if it isn't ice cold," Mycroft scolded.

"Oh, please, I was hardly five minutes late," Sherlock grumbled with his classic eye roll. He seated himself beside Molly, across from his parents. Mycroft sat at the head of the table. "Molly, you look lovely." She flashed him a sweet smile accompanied by the faintest blush of her cheeks. But then she looked down and was momentarily confused as she only wore a pair of jeans and a pink cable knit jumper with a tank top underneath. Her hair was loose, cascading over her shoulders.

"You do look lovely, dear," Mrs. Holmes provided genuinely. Mycroft cleared his throat.

"We are gathered here tonight—" he stopped as Sherlock cut him off.

"Brother mine, I suggest you change your wording; beginning to sound like a preacher performing a marriage," Sherlock teased.

"Perhaps I am," Mycroft joked, causing Molly to choke on her drink. Sherlock placed a hand on her upper back automatically. This did not go unnoticed by the Holmes parents.

"Are you alright?" Mr. Holmes asked with concern.

"Yea, fine, thanks," Molly managed awkwardly.

"As I was saying, we are gathered here tonight to celebrate family," Mycroft said proceeding to give his best smile.

"Why am I here, then?" Molly asked once more.

"You are here because I consider you family, Molly, don't you know that?" Sherlock informed her. She didn't look as if she bought it, but Sherlock was only going along with his brother's out of character plan.

"You also said I owed you one, Miss Hooper, so I invited you to dinner," Mycroft added. "It's the least I could do." This is the explanation Molly accepted, though Sherlock's admission was sweet.

* * *

"This is delicious," Molly exclaimed about the apple crumble they were all eating.

"Thank you, dear," Mrs. Holmes smiled.

"She makes the best apple crumble England has ever seen," Mr. Holmes bragged.

"Oh, stop it, you," Mrs. Holmes commented, playfully tapping her husband's shoulder with her unused napkin. "Molly, did you know there was one Christmas while I was still pregnant with Sherlock, we couldn't afford much though we were still able to get a little something for Mikey. Well, this big teddy bear,"—she pointed at her husband—"surprised me that year. We were not to get anything for each other but he wrote me a love letter each day up until Christmas. He's a romantic, he is and I suspect Sherlock to be the same way what with their similar mannerisms." Sherlock's eyes widened as he looked around nervously. Mr. Holmes gazed lovingly at his wife. Mycroft only enjoyed the scene playing out before him.

"What a lovely story," Molly sighed in awe. "Very romantic, indeed."

"Mycroft," Sherlock spoke suddenly, "may I speak with you in the sitting room?" He nodded and Sherlock followed him away from the dining area. Mycroft was not prepared for what happened next as his brother actually hugged him.

"What the hell was that?" Mycroft asked after Sherlock stepped back.

"A thank you," Sherlock replied.

"For?" Mycroft pressed.

"For trying your best to be a good big brother to me. I am sorry if I was harsh to you in the past; I wish to mend our distanced relationship," Sherlock explained. "Sentimentality be damned; it's not life without it, honestly."

"Just don't do that again and you're forgiven," Mycroft responded.

"Duly noted," Sherlock chuckled.

* * *

"You know dear, it's not too late," Mrs. Holmes smirked.

"She's right you know," Mr. Holmes added.

"What do you mean?" Molly asked.

"You love our son," Mrs. Holmes replied matter-of-factly. "I can see it in the way you look at him."

"Yes, but Sherlock doesn't—" Molly began.

"Oh, yes he does and if he denies it, he's lying to himself," Mrs. Holmes continued. "He looks at you the way his father has been looking at me since we met."

"What you two have is rare, it'd be best not to wait a moment longer," Mr. Holmes encouraged. Molly brightened with enthusiasm.

* * *

"So you've finally decided to tell her?" Mycroft inquired.

"Indeed," Sherlock confirmed. "As to when, I'm not sure but—"

"Mycroft?" Molly asked in a small voice. The eldest Holmes brother straightened up.

"Yes, Miss Hooper?" he asked.

"May I have a moment alone with Sherlock?" she asked in return. He nodded and left the two of them facing one another.

"Is everything alright?" Sherlock questioned.

"Yes, everything's fine," Molly answered. "Look, Sherlock, I know you didn't mean what you said after—well, after that mess."

"Go on," Sherlock encouraged.

"Just answer me this: Do you love me?" Molly's eyes spoke volumes in that moment, as did Sherlock's. He said nothing but stepped close enough to caress her cheek with his hand. She leaned into his touch automatically like a magnet connecting to an attracting force.

"Yes," he whispered, lowering his lips to hers, "I'm in love with you, Molly Hooper." She met him the rest of the way, pressing their lips together tenderly. Molly could feel warm tears trickling down her cheeks. She could feel Sherlock use his other hand to wipe them away. He picked her up in his arms bridal style, eliciting a surprised squeal from her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he peppered her face with soft kisses from her forehead, eyelids, nose, cheeks and lips. Unbeknownst to them, Molly's squeal alerted the rest of the Holmes family who were now looking in on them happily.

"Told you Sherlock was a romantic just like you," she smirked at her husband. Mycroft only rolled his eyes, but for the first time, it was playful.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Who can't resist the charm of the Holmes parents? It was ultimately them who brought Sherlolly together...surprise! Don't worry, there is an epilogue coming hehe!


	6. Epilogue: Christmas

Snow fell outside the windows, gathering in fluffy white sheets that covered the frozen ground. The scent of pine, sweet potatoes and a warm honey ham filled the Holmes household. Molly prepared a tray of Sherlock's favourite ginger nut biscuits; the heart cut diamond centered on a white gold band that adorned her left hand caught the light.

"Mikey," Mrs. Holmes called out, "please move your laptop; it's in the way." Mycroft appeared only grimacing in the slightest at the shortened version of his name. Molly bit her lip to stifle a giggle.

"Something funny, sister mine?" Mycroft teased.

"N-nope, nothing at all. I'm not your sister-in-law yet either," she laughed.

"Ah, but you will be soon enough," he replied. It was then Molly felt her fiancé's arms wrap around her waist from behind.

"Are those ginger nuts?" Sherlock asked with delight.

"Yes but you are not to eat any until after dinner," Molly warned him.

"Mm, I think I could convince you otherwise, darling," Sherlock said in a low voice. He kissed her cheek softly, hugging her tighter.

"Not gonna work," Molly sang, desperately trying to concentrate.

"Not even a little bit?" he asked.

"Well," she flirted with her eyes, "I suppose it might." Her lips hovered over his momentarily before she scooped some of the batter with her finger and dabbed it on the tip of his nose. The disappointed look on his face caused her to burst into laughter. Mrs. Holmes looked on with enthusiasm at her son and future daughter-in-law. Mycroft was actually chuckling at Molly's deception. He laughed until she caught him attempting to sneak a slice of cake and she slapped his hand away.

"Mycroft Holmes, do not touch that cake or so help me," Molly scolded him. It was Sherlock's turn to laugh then.

"She's got you there, brother dear," Sherlock chuckled. "Besides, you don't need that cake. I suspect you've gained two pounds recently."

"Behave," Molly told him with a glare.

"You three bickering like children," Mr. Holmes looked up from his book. "It's a nice change."

"It is, but I do not condone any fights breaking out in my kitchen so if you boys aren't going to help, you can wait in the sitting room," Mrs. Holmes told them as she took the ham out of the oven.

"Yes, mummy dear," the Holmes brothers sighed in unison.

"Practically sending us out of the room like children," Mycroft huffed.

"Well, we are their children still. It doesn't change just because we're adults by law," Sherlock remarked. He walked over to the lit up Christmas tree and picked up a pristinely wrapped gift. He handed it to Mycroft.

"What's this?" the eldest Holmes brother asked.

"Your Christmas gift," Sherlock replied. "I'd much rather you open it when it's just us or I won't hear the end of it from our parents." Mycroft unwrapped it tentatively, eventually revealing a rare signed first edition of _The Importance of Being Earnest_. He gaped in surprise at the extremely thoughtful gift Sherlock had presented him with.

"There are only twelve copies in the world of this edition," Mycroft mused.

"I meant what I said. Your Lady Bracknell was great," Sherlock spoke with sincerity. "Happy Christmas, brother mine."

* * *

Later that night, after dinner and dessert had been eaten, Sherlock and Molly bundled up for a walk in the snow.

"Did you give Mycroft his gift yet?" Molly asked, lacing her gloved fingers with his.

"I did," Sherlock confirmed. "It went well." Molly smiled at him brightly.

"I know you view those events that transpired at Sherrinford as nothing but a horrific night, but there's so much good that came out of it," Molly explained. "This lovely Christmas night wouldn't be happening, and if it were, I wouldn't be here and you and your brother wouldn't be getting along so well."

"You're right," Sherlock agreed. "I wouldn't trade any of this for the world." He kissed the top of her head that was covered by a white knit hat and she leaned into him affectionately.

"Let's make snow angels," Molly suggested happily.

"What? Molly, we're not twelve," Sherlock told her.

"Oh, come on, don't be a Grinch, Sherlock," Molly teased. She flopped down playfully in the snow, laughing to her heart's content. She tugged on his Belstaff from where she lay on the ground and brought him down with her.

"That wasn't fair," he grumbled.

"Just let yourself go for once," Molly told him. "It's okay to be silly sometimes; it's not a crime." She moved her arms and legs to make the angel in the snow and eventually, Sherlock gave in and joined her.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," he laughed.

"But you're having fun," Molly pointed out. She stopped when Sherlock was suddenly hovering above her. He gazed adoringly into her eyes. The pink in her cheeks was no longer discernable as to whether it was caused by the cold or the fact he always made her blush. She was in the snow but felt nothing but warmth as he bent down to kiss her lips firmly. He pushed past the seam of her lips, slipping his tongue in to tangle with hers. The soft moan he elicited from her encouraged him to continue their passionate snogging. They were lost in each other until a voice interrupted them.

"You two are going to catch frostbite out here," Mrs. Holmes warned them, a slight quirk of her lips formed a smile. Sherlock stood quickly and helped Molly up, his face flushed with embarrassment. It did not go undetected by his mother. "It's nice to know I can still inflict adolescent trauma upon you." She laughed then and Molly laughed along with her. They followed Mrs. Holmes inside the warmth of the house.

If you stood just outside the home, you would be able to hear the lighthearted laughter erupt as Mrs. Holmes announced that she found Sherlock and Molly snogging like there's no tomorrow.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** thank y'all so much for reading and reviewing! I always enjoy these multi-chapter journeys with you! xo


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